


A Mistress or a Friend

by Sholio



Category: Benjamin January Mysteries - Barbara Hambly
Genre: F/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2010-12-24
Updated: 2010-12-24
Packaged: 2017-10-14 01:57:49
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 626
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/144089
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Sholio/pseuds/Sholio
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>A brief tag to "Die Upon a Kiss". When Hannibal decided to accompany Consuela to Mexico City, how did that conversation go down? Title is from Shelley.</p>
            </blockquote>





	A Mistress or a Friend

**Author's Note:**

  * For [aces](https://archiveofourown.org/users/aces/gifts).



Madame Montero's room at the City Hotel was awash in colors: lace and brocade and taffeta silks, spilling over the floor and frothing on the bed like the waves of a bright foreign sea. In the middle of it all, Consuela cursed like a fishwife in three languages as she attempted to close a too-full trunk, eventually by sitting on it.

"Consuela, my sweetness. _Riches are a good handmaid, but the worst mistress._ " Hannibal picked his way through the sea of costumes, cheap jewelry and trinkets.

"Ah," Consuela replied, "but poverty is the parent of meanness and viciousness, is it not, according to Plato? And should you still like me if I were mean and vicious, _mi corazon_? Come, sit here and be useful."

Hannibal allowed her to maneuver him into position atop the trunk; then she pushed down with her surprisingly powerful arms. "But Plato also says _Wealth is the parent of luxury and indolence._ "

" _And both lead to discontent,_ " Consuela finished the quote, as she finally snapped shut the trunk's hasp, and then stole a quick kiss. "But I would rather be discontented in style."

"And such dashing style it is." Hannibal sagged back against the foot of the bed and watched as she began folding a heap of petticoats. With flippancy he didn't quite feel, he waved a hand at the buried coverlet, which could be seen peeking here and there through a mass of skirts and boxes, wrapped packages and silk bags, flowers and other gifts from Consuela's admirers. "Though I had hoped to have exclusive use of the bed tonight. Do I need to make an appointment -- perhaps between the French scarves and the boxes of paste emeralds?"

"You are wicked." Consuela paused to kiss him again as she bustled past. "Don't worry, my little love. I do not plan to board that packet in the morning without leaving you some pleasant memories to remember me by."

"Every memory of you is a pleasant one, _bella._ Well, perhaps aside from being tied to a bedframe and nearly murdered."

Consuela snorted. "That hardly had to do with me."

"But no memories are a substitute for the genuine article. I will miss you," he added sincerely.

The soprano straightened from stuffing the petticoats into another over-filled trunk. "Come with me, then. I am already a strumpet in my father's eyes; if I bring home a paramour from the theatre, it could hardly make my family love me less. Perhaps my father will even like you. He always craves educated conversation."

She came and leaned a knee on the trunk between his legs, bracing her arms to either side of his head. Her curls spilled down around her shoulders in scandalous disarray. "I can see that you are tempted. You can meet my terrible family and see if they are truly as terrible as I have told you. And I know all the best places in _Ciudad de Mexico_ , of course; we can wine and dine, and you can play for the opera during the Easter season. Hopefully no one will attempt to murder either of us this time."

Why not, really? He'd never meant to spend this many years in New Orleans. Actually, he'd never expected to still be alive in this Year of Our Lord 1835. And he couldn't say he relished the idea of yet another sweltering, fever-ridden summer on the delta, though he supposed that summer in Mexico City would be no less unpleasant and squalid.

Perhaps he had been here too long; perhaps it was time to travel again.

" _The day shall not be up so soon as I, to try the fair adventure of tomorrow_ ," he quoted, and leaned forward to capture her strawberry-flavored lips with his own.


End file.
